


Love: The History and Making of

by bi_leigh_bi



Series: A Professor AU [1]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Professors, An Excuse for Joe to be shocked by how Thick Nicky Actually Is, Frottage, M/M, Oblivious, Yearning, they’re in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:08:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26340901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bi_leigh_bi/pseuds/bi_leigh_bi
Summary: Andy, and basically the entire student body and the staff, are just waiting for Joe and Nicky to realize they’re in love.
Series: A Professor AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1934623
Comments: 23
Kudos: 169





	Love: The History and Making of

When the students whisper and giggle and make up outrageous fantasies it is almost always about two certain professors; Professor di Genova and Professor al Kaysani.

There isn’t any debate that these two are in fact the hottest of the faculty. In very, very different ways.

On the outside they look... like opposites. In almost literally every aspect.

For instance Professor di Genova favors soft sweaters and sweater vests with neat button ups underneath and clean pressed khakis of varying shades. And it could be a terrible look but- it certainly isn’t doing him the favors that could be done- but somehow it works for him, everything fits after all. At least there’s that. He’s always clean shaven and his hair is always neat. Sometimes longer and then suddenly short. As if he’s forgotten then suddenly remembered to get it cut. There is much debate about whether he should leave it long or not.

Whereas Professor al Kaysani- “just call me Joe, or Yusuf if you’re feeling particularly proper,” he says with a shrug at the beginning of each semester- favors tight skinny jeans and clean neat T-shirts’ with a suit jacket thrown over or wildly patterned and colored button downs often rolled up to his elbows. His hair long enough that his curls are perfect as if curls like that require no effort- not a single girl with hair that texture believes it, they want to know his hair care routine- and his beard neatly trimmed. There’s debate about that too.

But their courses are bound to overlap, in that they’re both history nerds and so most of the students have been in both of their classes at some point. It’s led to comparisons and possibly spread sheets and many debates about who is hotter of the two.

Professor di Genova’s most popular class is The Crusades and The Making of the East and the West. He’s clearly passionate about the subject and for most of the students it’s a sharp reminder of the reality of the crusades and how truly fucked they were. The Professor is quite clear- the glorifying of the Crusades is a problem. He teaches several other courses but this is the one that gets him pacing across the room, hands moving, hair mussed. He wrote his thesis on the subject and it’s actually an interesting read- for the most part. His students have checked it out.

Yusuf’s most popular class is debatable. One on hand there’s Faith and Authenticity: Religion, Existentialism and the Human Condition. On the other there is Multisensory Religion: Rethinking Islam Through the Arts. Given the current political climate it’s easy to see the appeal of both. The latter is possibly the one Joe is most passionate about. Though he’s passionate in general. But he clearly loves talking about the art and beauty of Islam. He draws from the oldest examples to connect them to modern themes. To show that while many much has changed, the heart of a thing stays the same. He keeps the student enraptured and it’s one of the few classes in which time slips away. It clearly slips away from Joe who frequently has to end mid sentence because he’s gone over time.

So they’ve met.

These two professors.

They’ve met at faculty events and in the library and at the coffee shop they both favor down the street. They’ve met. And each time Joe has considered asking him out. “ _Niccolò but most call me Nicky_ ”, he’d introduced himself at a faculty party the first year they both started, and Joe had called him Nico by the time he left. His cheeks had flushed warmly and he’d called Joe Yusuf when he said his goodbye.

They might be friends? Maybe? Acquaintances? Yes. 

But anyone who sees them in the same space can see they wouldn’t mind being more. As many students that throw themselves at the both of them you’d think they’d have a reputation by now but the only reputation they have is for being possibly, stupidly in love with each other and not realizing the other feels the same.

Yes, it’s that obvious.

Andy, the Dean of Students and friend to them both, has tried more than once to set them up. It hasn’t ever quite worked out. But if Nicky spends one more night going on about how Professor al Kaysani’s students are so well versed and add so much to his class when he invites the students to contribute to his lectures- she’s going to wring his neck. And if Joe tells her one more time how refreshing it is to see the Crusades being taught in such a way, as an atrocity and not a noble war- she’s going to slap him.

As it turns out though, she isn’t going to have to.

Nicky will later call it destiny and Joe will agree perhaps it was fate and Andy will say it was a damned faulty lock and would they just shut up, she knows how they finally got together she doesn’t want to hear the story again.

Either way, at Andy’s encouragement Joe hosts a little get together for the arts and history and the civics and ethics professors. The first semester of a new year is starting, and again, given the political climate of the world, she tells him she thinks it would be great if they all just talked about their thesis and where they’re taking their classes this year. Joe is in enthusiastic agreement. 

By the end of the night though it’s just Nicky and Joe, sitting out on the patio of Joe’s small home, talking. About everything and nothing, about their classes and history and about their own history. Their families. Their past. Nicky is never this open- he values his privacy, and Joe rarely so honest- he usually likes to add flourish and perhaps a bit of embellishment to his stories.

They barely nod at the _good evenings_ and _goodbyes_ of other professors. Andy takes over hosting duties until the house is empty and then leaves without bothering to say goodbye.

It’s Nicky who realizes with a start that he’s occupied Joe’s time and he goes to stand at the same time Joe rises to stand to tell him it’s fine- Nicky’s wine goes everywhere, Joe’s thankfully colorless Club soda does the same. It mostly ends up on Nicky and his pale blue sweater. One that Joe has never seen before, that made Joe startlingly aware of just how broad Nicky’s shoulders are. One that has sleeves that fall to the middle of Nicky’s long fingers. One that actually clings to his figure, down to his slim waist. Joe likes this sweater and now there’s red wine down the front of it. 

”Shit, shit, I’m sorry,” he says, grabbing the mostly empty wine glass from Nicky’s hands and sets it beside his own glass. “Come, let’s try to get this clean before it sets.” 

He wraps a hand around Nicky’s elbow and leads him inside. The closest bathroom is the one attached to his own bedroom. He’s distantly glad he’d cleaned every single room before this evening. He doesn’t notice how Nicky’s cheeks flush and his eyes move over the entire bedroom, falling on the bed and darting away. They bump into the door, sending it gently swinging closed and don’t notice the click of it shutting behind them. 

Joe just really wants to try to save the sweater. He lets go of Nicky as they enter the bathroom and he motions for him to take it off. Nicky carefully pulls the soft blue fabric over his head and hands it to Joe. 

Or tries to. 

Joe has the water running in the sink but his eyes are caught on Nicky. On his ridiculous broad shoulders and the lean line to his tapered waist. For once nothing hidden, the tight undershirt he’s wearing shows everything. And how did he not realize this before? Those damned sweaters. They’d hidden it. Even this one he likes. Joe would very much like to rest his hands on those shoulders or better- Nicky’s hips. It would be a lie to say he’s never imagined it. That he hasn’t laid down in his bed- his bed which is right there and, Allah, save him- and thought about stripping Nicky out of his sweaters and his layers and just touching him. 

”Yusuf?” Nicky’s voice brings him back and he takes the sweater. 

Nicky’s pale eyes are bright and watchful. In the bright light of the bathroom Joe’s curls are shinier than ever and his dark eyes so bright. He’s beautiful, Nicky has always thought so. And the lights of a bathroom of all things shouldn’t make him want Yusuf more than he already always does. But his hand grazes Joe’s as he hands over his sweater. They both shiver. He knows he feels it. 

But if he hasn’t found the perfect time to admit he wants to know Joe better, he wants more than this strange friendship, he’s certainly not finding it now. In a bathroom of all places. So he settles and watches Joe wet his sweater, trying to keep the stain from setting. To his credit Joe does a good job. Nicky thinks the sweater might survive. He just bought it for tonight, he would like to wear it again. Joe had seemed to like it. 

After about ten minutes Joe gently wrings the sweater out and hands it to Nicky. Their hands brush again and for a moment they just stare at each other. 

”Thank you,” he said softly. “I should probably be going.” 

Joe makes a disappointed noise but nods. Nicky backs out of the bathroom and Joe follows. He leads them to the bedroom room door and there’s something heavy between them that makes each step a journey in and of itself. Joe grabs the door, huffing that it has swung shut- he thought he fixed that problem- and pulls. It doesn’t open. 

”Shit,” he mutters, trying again.

”Yusuf?” His name is a soft question on Nicky’s tongue. 

He turns and finds Nicky very close. He’s just the slightest bit shorter than Joe, just enough that Joe tilts his head down to look at him. Just enough that kissing him would be perfect. His gaze goes to Nicky’s lips. He doesn’t mean them to.

”The lock, it’s- I thought I had fixed it. I swear I didn’t mean- this isn’t some weird set up. I like to imagine I’m smoother than this. I’d go for something much more romantic for you than ruining your sweater and locking you in my bedroom.”

Nicky’s laugh is soft and surprising to them both. He motions to the room at large and takes a half step away from Joe. 

”Would you?” He asked, smiling. “If we are stuck I think I would like to hear about this romantic set up you would arrange for me.”

Its a bold move in what has so far been a very slow and reserved game. Joe’s eyes widen a little but he closes that half step and then moves closer. His hands do find Nicky’s waist and Nicky drops the sweater. They’re both breathing too hard. Nicky’s hands- those hands Joe wants all over him- one settles on Joe’s chest and the other wraps around the back of his neck, fingertips teasing at curls he’s dreamed of touching. 

”There would be candles, soft music, the best Italian food this city has to offer. I would touch your hand through dinner, compliment you until your cheeks flush like lovely flowers in spring. Until your eyes were bright and locked on me. I would tell you how beautiful you are, how your mind amazes me, how I’ve wanted to simply bask in your presence from the moment we met,” Joe says, letting out all the things he wanted to say for so long. “I would write you poetry, I would draw your face so you too could see your beauty.”

Nicky’s breathing is harsh and the flush on his cheeks as spread down his long neck. 

”You’re right,” Nicky says, breathless. “Much better than locking me in your bedroom.” 

There’s a smirk on his lips and Joe makes a needy noise as his hands tighten on Nicky’s hips and he draws him in to his body. He makes it again when he presses his lips to Nicky’s, kisses that gentle smirk. Nicky’s hand fists in his curls and he turns his head, parts his lips, and the kiss becomes something else entirely. Something deeper and needier. 

For years they’ve wanted one another and done nothing about it. But neither of them is throwing away this opportunity. 

Nicky is a talented kisser and it should surprise Joe but it doesn’t. He melts into Nicky, passing control easily to him. Nicky’s hand on his chest is popping open the buttons of his shirt until it’s finally open. His hand boldly pushes under the open shirt, fingers tracing the definition of his abs.

Nicky pulls back from the kiss, lips bruised already, and his eyes take in Joe’s chest, his stomach, the sparse dark hair. He makes a little moan and touches again. Then hastily pushes the shirt the rest of the off Joe’s shoulders. It falls on top of the forgotten sweater. 

“Look at you,” he breathes. “Good god, Yusuf, look at you.”

It’s Joe who flushes now. His hands wrap around Nicky’s waist, cementing his hold. 

But his eyes are moving over Nicky’s broad shoulders. Nicky has no right to seem so shocked when he was hiding those. 

”Nico,” he murmurs, leaning in to find Nicky’s lips again. “Nico, will you stay the night with me?” he asked, lips still brushing. 

Nicky huffs a laugh, nimble fingers working Joe’s pants open. “Not sure I have a choice, Yusuf,” he teases. His eyes meet Joe’s. “But yes, yes, even if the damned door wasn’t locked. Yes.”

Joe figures if Nicky is going to take his pants off his only fair that he do the same. They’re a tangle of hands and legs, of lips meeting again and again. He can feel how hard Nicky is and he just wants get rid of all of these clothes. His own cock is leaking already, so hard it aches. Before he’d met Nicky he’d been very good at casual relationships. But after? After he’d been celibate as a damned priest without ever really meaning to be. 

Pants pushed to floor they step out of them, kicking them towards the growing pile do their joined clothing. They move backwards and Nicky turns them, Joe’s knees hitting the bed so he has to sit. It gives him a chance look. To really look. 

“ _Ya Allah_ , _Niccoló_ ,” he breathes, voice rough and low as his mouth goes absolutely dry. “Look at you.” His hands drag down from his waist, curling around the thickness of his thighs. Without hesitation they move up again, grasping the sweet rise of his ass. “You’re not real,” he manages to get out. 

Nicky’s eyes are closed, Joe’s touch making him whimper. He hasn’t been with anyone with quite some time and the one he had been with last had certainly not... appreciated Nicky as much as Joe seems to. 

”You’ve been hiding all this? I never would have lasted so long,” he looks up at Nicky, how his head has fallen back and there’s just the long line of his throat, bared. 

His hands just keep kneading the perfectly soft rise of Nicky’s ass, then down to those thighs. He can’t help himself, his lips press to Nicky’s hips, drag down. His hands pull his boxer briefs down. Baring all of him. Joe moans and presses his head to Nicky’s thigh. He turns, biting down gently on smooth muscle and Nicky makes most delicious and desperate noise above him. His hand dropping to curl in Joe’s hair. Joe does it again and the fingers in his hair tighten. 

Nicky curses in Italian. He’s shaking. His hard cock brushes Joe’s cheek but Joe’s mouth is still worshipping the thickness of Nicky’s thighs. 

“If you keep this up I will fall,” Nicky says, breathless. 

Joe looks up, to meet Nicky’s eyes. It should be illegal, Nicky thinks, for any man to be so beautiful. His hand leaves Joe’s hair to curl around his jaw, his thumb brushes over Joe’s beard, across his full lips and Joe sucks it in, tongue moving over his skin. And Nicky was really is going to fall. 

“Lie down,” Nicky demands. “I want to lie with you.” He means it in every way. 

Joe listens, pushes himself back into the middle of the bed. 

”Take them off,” Nicky says, motioning to Joe’s underwear as he steps out of his own. He watches Joe’s hips roll as he lifts them to do as Nicky asks. 

When he joins Joe on the bed he lays out beside him. They turn to face each other. Nicky’s hand finding the hard lines of Joe’s abs. Joe is bolder, pushing closer and grabbing a handful of Nicky’s ass. 

”You’re perfect,” Joe groans. Nicky wants to argue. “How? How do you hide all of this?”

”As you hide this?” Nicky asks, pushing up, leaning over Joe. Dropping his mouth to his chest. Lower. “ _Dios_ , look at you,” he mutters, licking and biting along his abs. 

”Nico, Niccoló, please,” Joe whispers, please. His hand buried in Nicky’s hair. 

He tugs and Nicky rises, drags his hand up his body as he lets Joe pull him in for another kiss. He turns so they’re facing one another and Joe’s hands start roaming again. His hand smoothing down Nicky’s thigh, fingers digging in. Nicky would never have said his thighs were sensitive before this. Before the way Joe seems to want to worship them. 

”You’re a tank,” Joe mutters, kissing down Nicky jaw, his neck. “All those sweaters and khakis, you can’t tell. Fuck, Nico.” 

He rolls them, pinning Nicky beneath him, pressing his thigh between Nicky’s and straddling Nicky’s thigh in return. Nicky’s eyes are dark with want and when Joe rocks his hips down into him they both moaned. 

Another string of curses in Italian. Their cocks leaking against each other’s thighs. Hands grasping. Nicky bends his knee just enough and Joe makes a keening noise as he ruts against his thigh. One hand curls under Nicky’s body, grasps his ass and kneads, pulling Nicky closer. 

No, no one he’d been with before had wanted to worship him like this. There’s soft Arabic muttering flowing past Joe’s lips as they move and rock together. It’s desperate and needy. Years of repressed want coming to fruition. Joe wants to be inside of Nicky, he wants Nicky inside of him. He wants suck his beautiful cock and- Allah, save him- he wants to eat that perfect ass for hours. 

But for now they can take the edge off. They can rock together, hips rolling, hands moving over skin, their mouths kissing desperate and catching each other’s moans and sighs. 

” _I want you_ ,” Nicky gasps in Italian, hand tight in Joe’s curls in a way that has Joe’s back arching. Joe is very grateful for the years he spent studying various languages. Italian amongst them. _“I have wanted you for so long, wanted all of you. Yusuf, please_.”

Joe knows they’re both about to come. They can’t keep this up. They’re too desperate. So he presses his forehead to Nicky’s and rolls his hips as if he were fucking Nicky. Nicky cries out, but his eyes find Joe’s and when they meet Joe sobs and feels his whole body light up. He keeps moving as he comes against Nick’s thigh, coating that perfect smooth skin. 

Nicky feels it and his back arches. His cock rubbing against Joe’s skin, the soft hair on his thigh. But its way Joe grasps at him as he comes, the feeling of it on his skin that sends him over the edge. He covers them as thoroughly as Joe did, their come mixing as they slow their rocking bodies. 

Joe gasps for air. He might have just died. He looks at Nicky and Nicky looks... ruined in the most perfect way. The way Joe imagined he would. 

_“I think I love you,_ ” Joe says in Arabic, his expression painfully soft. 

Nicky’s thinks maybe he doesn’t expect Nicky to understand it. He’s not fluent yet but he’s been studying for a year now. He knows what Joe has said.

 _”I think- I think I love you too,”_ he says back, accent terrible but clear enough and Joe’s breath catches.

”My Niccoló, all these years of wanting you, I have wanted you so badly.” 

Nicky laughs softly. “Me too, me too.” 

“Stay for more than tonight, stay with me forever, I don’t think I could stand it if you left now.”

Nicky’s smile is so soft. “I’m not leaving,” he promises. 

Joe kisses him, sweet and slow. His hands moving over Nicky’s skin in a ways that makes his cock jerk. No, no he’s not leaving. 

It causes quite the stir when classes start up and both Professor di Genova and Professor al Kaysani are late to their first class, especially when they’re spotted making out like teenagers not very far away. 

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Had a wild night on tumblr talking (with coffeebeannate go follow them) about how Nicky is deceptively thick and that evolved into a professor AU somehow. I don’t know, man. But this came of it. Tbh, this might be a verse I come play around in another time because Joe is definitely not done worshiping Nicky and Nicky hasn’t even started worshiping Joe the way he wants to.
> 
> 2\. Stole these course names from the Harvard website, I have no idea what I’m talking about. Like I was a nanny and now I’m a veterinary pharmacy tech. I did not do college in any form lol.
> 
> 3\. Nicky is a secret tank. I can’t handle it. Neither can Joe.


End file.
